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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489431">Until Valhalla</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf'>TheRedWulf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sansan One Shots [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Banter, Battle, Clegane Brothers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Gregor Clegane is His Own Warning, Love at First Sight, Picset Challenge, Shieldmaidens, Smut, Snark, The Wulf Pack, Valkyries, Vikings, sansan, tropes galore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Viking - In which the fiery 'Red Wolf' finds more than expected on the field of battle...</p><p>Picset is viewable <a href="https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/639152756410679296/until-valhalla-au-viking-in-which-the-fiery/">HERE</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sandor Clegane &amp; Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sansan One Shots [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>271</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Until Valhalla</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsfics/gifts">Kitsfics</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here we go again! Back to the 'Picset Challenge' series! This story is the 5th and final piece from the first round of submissions!! Whoohoo!<br/>What are picset challenges? This is where I take reader-made picset submissions through my discord, <a href="https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/">The Red Wulf's Pack</a>, and write a short blurb/one shot for reach one. It can be any pairing that I normally write, and any era, trope, etc. I really wanted to challenge my brain to see something unique and surprising in each set, and so far it's been a blast!</p><p>This picset is from "<a href="https://kitsfics2.tumblr.com/">KitsFics</a>"!<br/>Pairing: Sandor x Sansa = SanSan<br/>Universe: Viking (sorta, setting was left up to me)<br/>Trope: Love at Firs Sight/Enemies to Lovers<br/>Rated: E...for reasons</p><p>Before you dive in--I took a LOT of liberties with both Westeros history and Viking history. I know very little about Viking accuracy (I basically cherry picked shieldmaidens), so what I did was I took my 'Viking' doll and my 'Westeros' doll and said "Now Kiss" and smooshed them together. Take the accuracy for what is it...inaccurate as fuck. </p><p>I hope you enjoy it! Not a writer, not beta'd, the usual yadda, yadda, yadda...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clans from all of the known lands had sent their best warriors and finest soldiers to the gathering, all of them prepared to face their undead enemies together--regardless of their previous differences. Though some were decades deep and entrenched in their very core.</p><p>Sandor, younger brother to his Clan’s Chieftain Gregor, had arrived at his brother’s side last night, both of them weary from their long travels. Nothing that a good drink and a good fuck couldn’t fix-- once the  political bullshit was over, that is. Which was easier said than done in his case. Better known as “The Hound” Sandor’s reputation had obviously preceded him, since not a man nor maid had lasted two seconds before scurrying from his presence. </p><p>Cunts, the lot of them. Whimpering cunts.</p><p>Scoffing to himself, he leaned back in the wooden chair, mindful of the creak of protest it let out at having to support his massive frame. Clegane’s were the largest of the Clans, towering over not only their enemies but allies as well. Though allies seemed to be few and far between these days. With the coming of winter and the threat of the Others, small skirmishes had turned into bloody conflicts that left more than a few men and women dead. But as the men picked at each other, the Others saw them all as equals, marching through the Free Tribes and leaving nothing but corpses in their wake. </p><p>Now, in order to survive the remaining clans were forced to band together...something easier said than done. He could feel the tension in the room, thick enough to be cut with an axe and just as deadly. All it would take was for one misstep to lead them in to complete chaos. Fathers and brothers to men he’d cut down had become his unwilling allies, but that did not stop their glares of hatred from falling upon him and his brother. </p><p>Around this massive wooden meeting room were tables and chairs for all of the clans’ representatives and with his and Gregor’s arrival, only two chairs remained open. The two from the Stark Clan had yet to arrive, of fucking course. They figured themselves Northern royalty and did things at their own pace. The rest of them could get fucked for all the Starks cared.</p><p>“Too bad they can’t send the Young Wolf” Gregor chuckled, refilling their horns until mead overflowed onto their hands. </p><p>“What a pretty little prick he was” Sandor chuckled, running a hand over his thick black beard. He hadn’t given much thought to his appearance beyond keeping his beard trimmed and hair tied back, braids at each of his temples. He wasn’t a vain or proud man--a sword to the face many years ago had squashed any chances of that, but he would settle for terrifying his enemies. </p><p>“I could have put him in my pocket” Gregor chuckled. “A wee little wolf boy” he shook his head, both of them remembering how delicate Robb Stark had been at their last meeting. Perhaps if the boy had removed his lips from his mother’s teat he would have had better luck leading his men. </p><p>“Now” Robert the Red, the Chieftain of the Baratheons stood at the center of the room. “Shall we begin?” </p><p>“The fucking Starks aren’t here” a blonde man across the room from Sandor called out before belching loudly and hammering the bear sigil engraved into the leather of his heart. Fucking Mormonts, always ready for a fight.</p><p>“Aye” Gregor agreed as a commotion sounded outside. A scuffle and yelling, then the wooden planks that made up the door swung open and two more figures strode inside. “Fuck me” Gregor leaned forward, his eyes following the same figure that Sandor’s was…</p><p>“Who the fuck is she?” Sandor whispered to his brother only answered with a shrug. She was...beautiful, there was no doubt of that. Fiery hair, porcelain skin accented by a stripe of grey--ash most likely, across her face from ear to ear. Braids and metal charms decorated her mane, just as runes and wolves decorated her leather and maille armor. At her waist was a pair of daggers, on her back a broadsword and shield that had seen better days, a direwolf emblazoned on the front.</p><p>A direwolf…Unlike the women in the West who were more often soft and delicate than they were warriors, this woman before him was a shieldmaiden of the North, made of fire and battle forged, it was unmistakable. This woman was a Stark.</p><p>“Gods be…” Robert shook his head, smiling at them. “You are the very image of your mother.” </p><p>“I have been told that a time or two” the tall, imposing beauty spoke, a crooked smile on her lips. “I am sorry we are late” she motioned to the shorter man behind her. “The Others are further south than anticipated. We only barely managed to escape them--” </p><p>“A likely fuckin’ story” Gregor scoffed, draining his horn. At his words the woman’s eyes--bluer than any gem he’d ever seen, shot a glare at them both. </p><p>“Cleganes,” she spoke the word like the filthiest of slurs, disgust obvious on her features. Hackles raised, Sandor made a show of sitting back on his chair and spreading his leather-clad legs to distract from his loudmouth brother. Gregor's mouth constantly got him into trouble, it was Sandor's duty as his younger brother to diffuse and distract those he offended.</p><p>“Here now” he patted his right thigh to taunt her. “I saved you a seat” he offered and the room fell silent.  </p><p>“Did you?” she turned to face him fully, a brow raised as she tilted her head. “I’d say that’s kind of you but given what I’ve heard of Clegane intelligence, I am merely grateful you managed to sit up on your own at all.” </p><p>“You have a sharp tongue, I wonder if you know how to put it to better use” Sandor glared, fixing her eyes with his. As she moved closer he could see not only the fury in her eyes but the scar at her throat and the one that bisected her left ear. Well then, she had souvenirs of a battle or two...or maybe that smart mouth of <i>hers</i> had gotten her in trouble before. </p><p>“I’d sooner kiss my own horse than touch a filthy <i>Hound</i> like you” she countered. </p><p>“Sansa--” the man at her back cautioned her with a raised hand. </p><p>“Ah yes, the great Sansa of Clan Stark--the buggering ‘Princess’ in the flesh” Sandor greeted. </p><p>“Are you here to fight then?” Gregor laughed. </p><p>“In my experience, women as beautiful as you do not have to fight, you have men falling at their feet for the honor of dying for you” Sandor continued. </p><p>“No man need die for me, but many a man have died by me” she warned. </p><p>“They call her the 'Red Wolf',” someone across the room said. </p><p>“She killed the great direwolf 'Nymeria', the one devouring children and entire herds of sheep” another added. “Wore her pelt as a trophy.”</p><p>“She fought back the Bolton Clan at her brother’s side…” the third voice trailed off. </p><p>“And when my brother fell, I took up his sword as well,” Sansa finished. </p><p>“How terrifying that must’ve been,” Gregor scoffed. </p><p>“How about I remove your brother’s head and sew a hound’s head in its place?” she challenged Gregor. “We shall see how much you enjoy it then, Clegane.” </p><p>“Touch my brother” Gregor warned with a growl. “And I will cut you in fucking half.” </p><p>“Go fuck yourself” she spat, turning away from them entirely. </p><p>Sandor admired her profile for a moment, seeing the determined cut of her jaw and the strength in her shoulders. He could not pinpoint what it was, not exactly, but there was <i>something</i> about her that had his cock more than half hard and ready to go. Gathering or not, he fought the urge to throw her over the table and see if she was as wild beneath him as she was before him. With a woman such as her at his side, he would have to worry less about his enemies and more about her cutting his throat while he slept. </p><p>A thought that was oddly arousing. </p><p>Perhaps it was the lack of fear in her eyes when she looked at him, the lack of pity and distaste that he so rarely experienced. Her complete lack of self-preservation as she spat vitriol and threats to Gregor. Or perhaps it was that as beautiful as she was, she was not without flaw--however minor. She could have locked herself away and hidden until the Others were gone, any man could have been easily swayed to fight for her by her beauty alone...but she was here.</p><p>He had heard stories of the Shieldmaidens, of their prowess on the field of battle and their devotion to each other. There were only a handful of them left in the world, decades of conflict having taken their toll. He had never imagined he would be fighting alongside one--let alone several. This new war held many surprises.</p><p>“Please, now” Robert placated, cutting into the heated discussion. “We have much to discuss. Sansa, would you give us the rest of your news.” </p><p>“Of course” she and her companion moved to their chairs at the table beside Sandor and Gregor. While her companion sat, she remained standing to shed her shield before taking a deep breath. “We were a half a day’s ride from home when we encountered what could only have been a scouting pack. They had a single Wight with them and a handful of Others at his command” she explained. “We were able to fight them back using fire and steel, but it was not easy.” </p><p>“Sword too heavy?” Gregor quipped and Sandor’s laughter filled the room. </p><p>“If you do not sever their heads cleanly, they continue to fight” Sansa continued undeterred. “And if you fall to their blades, you rise again as one of their ranks” she added, sending the room into a flurry of discussion. </p><p>“You’re saying…” Robert paled. </p><p>“I am saying that all of the Free Tribes that have fallen to the Others, have surely joined their army in the march South” Sansa nodded solemnly. </p><p>“And the fire?” the crisp, curt voice of the Targaryen clan’s leader came. “It worked?” </p><p>“It did” Sansa nodded, offering the white-blonde woman a small nod of respect. “It is good to see you Dany, it has been too long.” </p><p>“I’d say it has” Daenerys made a show of looking to Sansa’s left side and the mangled ear there. “But I daresay you remember me well” a slow smirk dominated her face. </p><p>“I think of you every day” Sansa chuckled, absently touching her ear. </p><p>“You two gonna fuck or--” </p><p>“Oi” Sandor elbowed his brother. “Shut it.” </p><p>“Men” Dany shook her head, taking a long drink from her wooden cup. “Fighting and fucking is all they understand. Never is there an in-between, is there?” she smiled at Sansa, rising from her table. Where Sansa was tall and slender, Daenerys was shorter and built like a stone shit-house. Her nearly white hair was thickly plaited and heavily laden with leather cords and pale bones that jingled as she moved. She had long been the would-be-queen of them all, but the Gods had another path in store for her after the horrific death of her husband. She rounded the table to stand beside Robert. “The fire, you say it works?” </p><p>“It does” Sansa nodded. </p><p>“Good” Dany nodded. “We brought much Wildfire with us--” </p><p>“Wildfire?” the blonde Mormont man--Jorah, stood. “Are you mad?” </p><p>“You will never again accuse me of madness” Dany’s violet eyes sparked with violence. “You want us to fight a war, we’ll fight this fucking war the best way we know how.” </p><p>“You dragons and your fire” Sansa laughed softly, crossing her arms. </p><p>“You wolves and your honor” Dany countered smoothly. </p><p>“The fire works,” Sansa’s companion added. “As did this…” he pulled a dagger from his waist and set it on the table. </p><p>“Dragonglass?” Dany advanced, picking up the blade. “I have not seen such in years.” </p><p>“We brought all that we could,” Sansa explained, now standing before Dany. “We have been mining it in the far North. The loaded carts are outside and it should be enough to fashion bladed weapons.” </p><p>“Good” Robert nodded, everyone watching as Dany handed Sansa the blade. “This is exactly what we needed to give us the upper hand.” </p><p>“The Gods favor your family” Dany mused, looking up at the taller woman. </p><p>“They did once,” Sansa whispered. “But I am all that is left now, so perhaps they have just taken pity on me” her words faded on the air but Sandor felt their weight nonetheless. Sansa had come to represent her Clan because she was the last of them...Gods be good, where would the North be without a Stark?  </p><p>Dany reached out then, her hand going to the back of Sansa’s neck to guide their foreheads together. Their eyes fluttered shut and they seemed to share a breath, a lifeline within their connection. Sandor watched the reverent moment, the two shieldmaidens--one of fire and one of ice, enemies on more than one occasion sharing in their mourning for those who had already gone beyond to the gates of Valhalla. Sansa spoke in the ancient tongue of the Gods and Dany answered in kind before they parted, both of them returning to their chairs as if nothing had happened. </p><p>“Still’d like to watch them fuck” Gregor mumbled and in a flash Sansa had thrown herself over Sandor’s lap to land a punch square on Gregor’s jaw. </p><p>“Fucking--shit!” Sandor wrapped a thick arm around her waist and stood, shifting her back and away from where his brother had lumbered to his feet. Sansa was fire and fury, kicking and growling in the ancient tongue as Sandor held her back. </p><p>“This is why Clegane’s don’t let their women fight” Gregor laughed, wiping the mead from his beard. “Too emotional--”. ‘Fuck’ was the only word that Sandor could make out in Sansa’s tirade and attempts to get after Gregor. It was his humor at the situation that allowed her to take the upper hand--or at least that is what he told himself as she slipped through his hold and to her feet. She advance with singular intent, temper rising to meet Gregor’s--</p><p>“Cease this immediately!” Robert’s booming voice echoed through the meeting room as Gregor faced Sansa’s attack and prepared himself. Sansa’s feet skidded to a halt on the dirt floor, though her eyes did not leave Gregor’s massive frame. Seeing the tension between the two, Sandor stepped in, placing a hand on his brother’s chest. </p><p>“Sit” Sandor nodded to the toppled chair. “We’ll finish this and then you can go fuck it out of your system.” </p><p>“Aye,” Gregor was still glaring at Sansa who had shifted back. “And I know just the ‘maiden’ I want to split with this Clegane cock” he grabbed at his groin and blew a kiss to Sansa. “What do you say?” he smirked. At this she lunged again--he couldn’t blame her, but this time Sandor met her head on, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her from the room. </p><p> </p><p>Sansa was furious, absolutely furious at the tall, rude Clegane cunt that thought he could talk of her and Dany as if they were both nothing more than common whores. Both Cleganes proved to be nothing more than the animals they were rumored to be. And <i>oh</i> had she heard the rumors. </p><p>The older one, Gregor, they called ‘Mountain’ as he was the biggest Clegane Chieftain to date and an unmovable force on the field of battle. Some claimed that they’d even watched him cut down a dozen horses in his unbridled fury. The younger, the one currently carrying her as if she were nothing more than a sack of flour, was named Sandor but they called him ‘Hound’ since no enemy had ever escaped his capture. Once he had caught the trail of his enemy, there was nothing to stop him in his pursuit. Though, in truth, he could have very well been ‘Mountain’ himself, as he was just as large as his brother. </p><p>She was used to being looked over or taken for a mere girl playing at war, she had dealt with it her entire life. That did not mean, however, that she would allow it. Her family were proud people, old of blood and strong of arm, she would be damned if any ever insulted that heritage. Her father spent his life as a protector of the North, working hard as an ambassador to both the southern clans and the Free Tribes. Her mother had been a Shieldmaiden herself and had trained her daughters well. ‘She-Wolves’ they’d been called, respected and feared as they should have been until one-by-one they fell and Sansa was left standing alone in the fog and snow. Her father fell to the Frey's duplicity, her mother and brother at the betraying blades of the Boltons, her sister in childbed.</p><p>Somehow she had survived to become the last Stark, though not without demons of her own...</p><p>She fought and wrestled against the Hound’s hold as he carried her into the fresh--if freezing air. At the South side of the building was a small patch of frozen grass that had likely once been a sparring area. Setting her on her feet, he backed her into the wooden wall and held her with a firm hand at her shoulder. </p><p>“Settle” he growled, his voice deep enough to rumble through her. She took a deep breath and looked up into surprisingly gentle grey eyes, any fight she had left dying on her lips. “Aye, that’s it. We’ve got bigger problems right now than you wanting to pull my brother’s heart from his chest and show it to him.” </p><p>“I’ll kill him if he touches me” she said quietly, the threat not one that needed to be barked. </p><p>“I believe you,” he said, his tone sincere. “But that can wait until after we kill those snowy bastards, aye?” she watched him for several seconds in silence, eyes roving over every detail of his form from the hook of his sharp nose, the braids in his dark hair and full beard, to the scar that bisected his left eyebrow and cheek, all the way down to his jawline. </p><p>“Your brother do that to you?” she nodded to his left cheek. </p><p>“More like your father” he chuckled, moving back to his full height and dropping his hand. “Him and that damnable Valyrian blade of his.” </p><p>“This blade” she motioned with her eyes to the sword strapped to her back. </p><p>“Aye, the very one.” </p><p>“Good, you likely deserved it” she quipped. </p><p>“I am sure he believed I did...at the time. I more than made up for his ire when I decimated the Freys” he shrugged, the massive breadth of his shoulders pulling at the leather and maille of his breastplate and the linen of his shirt. “Dany did that then?” he nodded to her ear, pulling her from his admiration of his form. </p><p>“Aye” she mimicked his Western accent. “And I am sure she believed I deserved it too.” </p><p>“Lucky you didn’t lose it” he offered. </p><p>“Too bad I didn't,” she laughed. “One less ear to listen to men talk about their pricks.” </p><p>“And that” he casually pointed to the scar across the front and side of her neck and her amusement ended. </p><p>“That’s none of your fucking business, <i>Clegane</i>” she turned away but his arm shot out to block her path, hand bracing on the wooden wall. </p><p>“Stay away from Gregor,” he warned. </p><p>“Worried I’ll castrate him?” </p><p>“He’s half-mad when drunk,” he replied. </p><p>“And when sober?” </p><p>“Full-mad, on the rare chance he’s ever sober.” </p><p>“Sounds like a Clegane tradition” she countered, trying to shove his arm aside but it could not be budged. “We’re done here, Hound” she glared up at him. </p><p>“Gods but you are beautiful” he said softly, staring down at her. There was something there in his grey eyes, something warm and terrifying that had her stomach clenched with the urge to run...or stay, stay very close...or...no, no.</p><p>“I’ve been told that many times by many men,” she stated, swallowing thickly. </p><p>“And how many of them have you killed?” </p><p>“All but you” she replied without pause, dangerous memories lurking in the back of her mind. He moved his hand from the wall but instead of falling to his side, it made for her cheek. Moving quickly she pulled the dagger from the back of her belt and pressed it to his inner thigh. “No” she hissed, the press of her blade forcing him to still. </p><p>“Aye” he raised his hand in supplication, stepping back. “As you say” he nodded his head, grey eyes full of mystery as she stepped away. She had just reached the corner of the building, her dagger back home in her belt when he spoke again. “I look forward to fighting at your side, Shieldmaiden. May we both survive this war.” </p><p>Her footsteps paused for only a few moments before she resumed her journey back inside, leaving him and his ego alone in the snow. </p><p> </p><p>“Here” Sansa looked up from the fire to see Dany extending a cup to her. After the meeting was over, Sansa had seen to the delivery of the Dragonglass before finding her own quarters for her stay. It wasn’t a surprise to her that Dany offered to share hers, while they had not always been allies there was a mutual respect between them that would allow them to cohabitate for at least a short while. Jory had gone ahead to join the other men, surely drinking his fill this evening. After their eventful journey South, he had certainly earned it. </p><p>“Thank you” Sansa nodded, taking the cup as the smaller Shieldmaiden sat beside her on the thick furs that had been laid out on the floor. </p><p>“It seems as if every day is another nightmare”  Dany noted, staring at the flames as they danced before them. “Is there no peace for women such as us?” </p><p>“I know not,” Sansa admitted. “Truly.” </p><p>“He’s dead,” Dany said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “They’re gone.” </p><p>“I heard” Sansa whispered, turning to face her. In Dany’s eyes she could see the flames reflection the soft purple becoming a violent storm of emotion. “And I am sorry.” </p><p>“As little girls they tell you that a woman’s true battle is in childbirth” Dany took a deep breath. “But it is the only battle I have ever lost” she turned to meet Sansa’s eyes. “What does that say of me?” </p><p>“It says that your battle lay elsewhere” Sansa offered. “I can never pretend to know the Gods’ plans, not when they have held such pain and sadness. I can only hope--we can only hope that it will all make sense at some point.” </p><p>“And if it doesn’t?”</p><p>“We keep fighting,” Sansa replied, sipping her drink. As she swallowed she realized that Dany was watching her closely. “What?” </p><p>“This” Dany reached out to touch the scar across Sansa’s neck. “It weighs at you.” </p><p>“Some reminders are more unwanted than others” Sansa offered, Dany’s eyes darting to her mangled ear which meant she understood her meaning. </p><p>“Not all men are like him,” Dany said softly. "Not all men take what does not belong to them and scorch the earth with their tempers."</p><p>“Most do.” </p><p>“Drogo wasn't like that,” Dany continued. “And from the way that the Hound looks at you, I’d say he isn’t either.” </p><p>“The Hound” Sansa scoffed, pulling her plaited hair over her shoulder to hide the scar from sight. </p><p>“Obviously his brother is touched in the head, but Sandor seemed genuinely intrigued by you” Dany smiled then, elbowing her playfully. </p><p>“I’m not interested” Sansa tried to hide her lie with another sip of wine. "I came here to fight, not to find a husband." </p><p>“Of course” Dany laughed. “Why would you be interested in a large, handsome--” </p><p>“Handsome is being generous” Sansa cut in, the memory of Sandor’s person drifting through her mind. </p><p>“Not traditionally, perhaps” Dany reasoned. </p><p>“No, he is far too rugged for that” Sansa admitted. </p><p>“Mmhmm” Dany smugly sipped her own wine before grabbing the pitcher to refill both of their cups. Setting it aside, she stretched out her legs towards the fire, warming her feet. “If I may offer advice, Sansa,” Dany continued. “Don’t let moments of happiness pass you by, not in this life where they are so few and far between. While my heart is torn at the loss of my husband and son, I could never regret a moment of our brief time together.” </p><p>“Everyone I’ve ever loved has been killed” Sansa looked to her friend. “Why would I curse another with that?” </p><p>“I’m not dead,” Dany scoffed. </p><p>“Who said I loved you?” Sansa chuckled, shaking her head. </p><p>“You didn’t have to say it” Dany patted her shoulder. “And nor do I to you.” </p><p>“Aye” Sansa sighed. </p><p>“Sleep” Dany nodded to the large bed along the far well. “I'll be up a while, but I can see the weary set of your brow.”</p><p>“Thank you” Sansa raised her cup in salute, tapping it against Dany’s before she finished it in a single gulp. Setting the cup aside, she stood and crossed to the bed. Shedding her boots and leather breeches, she kept her tunic on and slipped onto the softest bed she had had in a long time. Watching the flames dance across the roof of the hut, she drifted off knowing that she would be safe while she slept. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at her” Gregor elbowed Sandor with a heavy arm, turning his attention away from where he had been sorting the new bladed weapons to where Sansa was sparring with Dany. </p><p>“You’re a bloody besotted cunt then, eh?” Sandor watched as Dany landed a solid blow to Sansa’s shield, trying to get close enough to land a hit to her opponent’s body. Unfortunately for Dany, Sansa had a much longer reach and the woman they called the ‘Red Wolf’ landed a hit of her own, a solid hilt to the stomach with a deft arm. Dany stumbled back, clutching her stomach with a wild laugh. The two exchanged words in the ancient language and Sansa gave a dramatic bow, standing to flip her hair over her shoulder. The rapport that the two Shieldmaidens had was admirable, even if they had likely tried to kill each other in truth on several occasions. </p><p>“It’s been a while since I’ve had a challenge” Gregor shrugged, hefting a heavy pile of swords onto the cart beside the smith’s forge. “And never one so beautiful.” </p><p>“She’s too smart for you, cunt. She’s more like to cut your cock off and shove it down your throat,” Sandor chuckled, doing his best to ignore the way the dark tide of jealousy rose in the back of his throat like bile. While logically he knew that there was no fucking way Sansa Stark would take Gregor to her bed--not after yesterday’s performance, it still ate at him like disease. </p><p>“I cannot imagine a better way to go,” Gregor laughed. "She is the type of woman you take to wife, brother." </p><p>"Aye, if you want to wake up to find your bollocks missing" Sandor shook his head and brushed aside his brother's words, focusing on the task at hand. His jealousies could wait until after they had made enough weapons for the front line to be armed and ready. Soon they would face a much deadlier enemy than they’d ever seen before, the unknown lingering on the horizon like a ghost. A pang of worry settled in his stomach at the thought of Sansa on the front lines. Shieldmaiden though she may be, this war was unlike any they’d fought before and he did not want to be there if she fell…</p><p>“Hound!” the smooth voice of Jaime the Lion pulled him from his musings and he turned to see the golden man’s approach. </p><p>“Surprised you’re still alive” Sandor offered his arm, the two men briefly clasping each others’ forearm in greeting. He’d known Jaime since they were boys, their clans living close to each other in the West. While Jaime had been in the shadow of his father the ‘Great Lion’, Sandor had been in Gregor’s shadow and they had initially bonded over that. Many years and many battles later, they had sat in that area between friends and brothers, trusted allies in any cause.  </p><p>“Barely” Jaime laughed. </p><p>“Late to the party as always” Sandor quipped. “You missed all the hard work.” </p><p>“Ran into the Others on our way here but we managed to escape unharmed” Jaime nodded to where his twin sister, a fierce blonde cunt named Cersei was hopping into the sparring area to greet Sansa and Dany. </p><p>“Bringing your sister to battle I see,” Sandor noted. </p><p>“She wasn’t about to let me get ahead” Jaime smirked. </p><p>“Oh that’s right,” Sandor chuckled, remembering the heated competition between the Lion twins regarding headcount and battle. He had never fought alongside Cersei, but he had heard rumors of her savagery.  “Who is ahead?” </p><p>“I am, by two” Jaime raised his brows.</p><p>“Shieldmaidens” Gregor paused his work beside them. “A gift from the Gods, are they not?” </p><p>“What’s happened to him?” Jaime motioned to Gregor with a confused expression. </p><p>“Red over there” Sandor nodded to Sansa. </p><p>“Stark?” Jaime shook his head. “Good luck, she’s made a sport of refusing me. From what I've heard, she puts 'maiden' in Shieldmaiden.” </p><p>“She needs a real man” Gregor smirked, returning to his work. </p><p>“She needs you to fuck off” Sandor replied, shaking his head. Turning back to the golden man, he was surprised to see Jaime regarding him with an odd expression. “What?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Jaime smiled, raising a knowing brow. “Nothing at all.” </p><p>“Oh fuck off” Sandor shoved him away and returned to work. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until later that day, just before the evening feast that Sandor had occasion to lay eyes on Sansa again. This time she was kneeling at the tree line just outside the village, her broadsword standing tall in the ground before her, her head bowed in prayer. While he and Gregor had seen to the weapons--with the smith’s help of course, the shieldmaidens had seen to the placement of the Wildfire. Under Dany’s guidance they would have had the woods booby-trapped in no time. </p><p>Like a moth to a flame, he moved closer and before he knew it he stood less than a stone’s throw from her back. He listened as she spoke to the Gods in the ancient tongue, her voice lilting as if lost in a haunting song. </p><p>“Do you often spy on those who seek to speak to the Gods, Hound?” she lifted her head but did not face him. The soft jingling of the metal charms in her plaits drew his attention to her hair and the way it glowed like fire in the afternoon sun. </p><p>“Not often, but I confess I was curious,” he admitted, stepping closer. “You speak to the Gods though you feel they pity you” he added, remembering her words in the meeting hall the previous day. </p><p>“I do” she turned to face him, watching his approach with a keen eye. “If it is their will to abandon me, then the fault lies with them and not in my own heart” she pushed to her feet, a hand coming out to wrap around the hilt of what was once her father’s sword. </p><p>“It has been years since I’ve seen that blade” his lips twitched in amusement. “I would know it anywhere, I got a pretty good look at it once upon a time.” </p><p>“I would apologize but…” </p><p>“But you’re not sorry” he chuckled. “I know. All is fair in love and war.” </p><p>“In war at least,” Sansa replied, pulling the blade from the ground, spinning it with a deft wrist. </p><p>“May I?” Sandor extended his hand, curious as to the weight and feel of the weapon that had maimed his face many years ago. Sansa hesitated, lifting it to rest across her hand for a moment before extending it to him. Her action, however small, was a show of trust he had not expected. </p><p>“It has been in my family for generations” she explained as he took the blade in-hand. He was surprised at how heavy it was; it was well-made and perfectly balanced, he deduced. “I never expected that it would be my honor to wield it, but as the last Stark it is my duty.”</p><p>“If only the blades of our families could tell stories of their own” Sandor extended the hilt back to her. “What horrors would they tell us? What victories would they speak of?” </p><p>“I do not think I want to know” Sansa whispered, taking the blade and slipping it into the sheath on her back. “Too many of my loved ones have died with this blade in their hands. I do not intend to be the next.” </p><p>“Don’t worry” he chuckled. “I’ll protect you when the time comes.” </p><p>“Oh?” her brows rose in amusement. “Suppose it is I that protects you?” </p><p>“Then I’d be obligated to give my savior a token of my favor” he stepped closer. “Perhaps write a song to your bravery.” </p><p>“I cannot imagine you as a bard” she smiled then, her eyes softening to glow in the light. She truly was a beautiful woman, more so than any he’d ever laid eyes on. A contrast to the stripe of ash high across her cheeks and nose, the blue of her eyes sparkled like the clearest water in the West.</p><p>“And would you chirp me a song in return?” he asked quietly. </p><p>“It would take more than a swing of the blade to pull a song from my chest” she countered and this time it was she that stepped closer, leaving barely a space between them. He felt his breathing hitch, mind racing with the idea that she could be as drawn to him as he was to her--Gregor be damned. </p><p>“I promise you this, my Little SongBird,” his great height forcing him to lean closer to whisper in her ear. “I’ll have a song from you before we reach the gates of Valhalla.” At his words she turned towards him, her temple brushing his chin. </p><p>“You can try, Hound” she challenged as the bells for the evening meal echoed throughout the village, breaking their moment. “See you at the feast” she slipped away before he could stop her, leaving him to watch her confident stride as she returned to the village proper. </p><p>Taking several breaths, he let the winter air cool his blood before he followed her footsteps.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I would enjoy that” Cersei motioned across the feast to where Gregor and Sandor stood together. </p><p>“Which one? One is already spoken for” Dany smiled smugly. </p><p>“The Mountain” Cersei explained, turning back to them. “Who is spoken for then?” </p><p>“The Hound” Dany laughed and Sansa shook her head. </p><p>“He is not” Sansa argued, shoving another piece of chicken into her mouth, chewing angrily. </p><p>“It’s like that then” Cersei leaned closer across the table. “I’d wondered when the mighty 'Red Wolf' would fall. They speak of you in the West as an untouchable maiden, locking herself in a tower.” </p><p>“Still talking about me with your friends then” Sansa countered with a smirk. </p><p>“I can’t help it, I missed you” Cersei winked, the women dissolving into laughter. “But worry not, I don't have eyes on your Hound.” </p><p>“He’s not my Hound,” Sansa argued, rolling her eyes. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods, perhaps they had been watching her after all. If Cersei or Dany knew about her moment in the woods with Sandor, they would never let her forget it. In truth, she already knew that would never forget it. The man was a powerful force, one that she knew--logically, that she should stay away from. The only problem was that the moment he was near, all thought seemed to escape her. All rational thought, that is, leaving her a creature of lust and ache that was a foreign to her as wearing a gown was.</p><p>“Not yet he isn’t,” Dany laughed. </p><p>“You two are insufferable” Sansa stated, pointing to each of them before focusing on her chicken. </p><p>Everyone gathered had joined in the feast, spirits higher than they had been in days and an odd sort of camaraderie coming to settle on them all. Still, it was odd to see the Umbers beside the Reynes, and the golden Lions of Lannisport mingling with them all. A year past these clans had all been at war with each other, now they were united by a common foe. Perhaps this war was the first step to peace.</p><p>“Red” a deep voice cut in as two large bodies joined them at the wooden table. </p><p>“Fuck me” Sansa mumbled under her breath, dropping her chicken and sitting back. Taking that as a sign that she was done, the Hound hooked his finger into the wooden bowl and pulled it close, digging into her chicken. “That’s mine” she reached for it but he pulled the bowl away. </p><p>“Princess” he raised a mocking brow, the scar across his cheek pulling tight. </p><p>“If it isn’t the Mountain himself” Cersei shifted to face the man beside her, watching him with sharp emerald eyes. Sansa almost felt badly for the Mountain, Cersei was a lioness in all ways and now that she had him in her sights, there would be no escaping her. It worked in Sansa’s favor, however, since she had caught his eyes on her person more than once today. </p><p>“I’ve heard talk of you, Lioness” Gregor chuckled. “Heard you gutted a man in your father’s hall.” </p><p>“I did,” Cersei said smugly. “He had it coming.” </p><p>“Oh?” </p><p>“Never try to domesticate a shieldmaiden” Cersei explained, grabbing a servant who was passing by, taking the pitcher from their hands. “My thanks” she sent them away, refilling every glass within reach. </p><p>“Give--” Sansa made another reach for her bowl but the Hound held fast. The man--damnable infuriating beast that he was, extended a chunk of meat between his fingers, offering it to her lips. “You--” </p><p>“Eat up, Stark. Unless you want me to protect you, you’ll need your strength for the coming fight” Sandor challenged and she realized that the others were watching them. They sat frozen for several seconds, the chaos of the room dancing around them as they held each others’ stare. “Afraid?” he added, breaking the tension. </p><p>Never one to back down from a challenge--or a moment of sheer madness, she pushed from the bench. Standing tall she rounded the table and stood over him, glaring down into his impossibly dark eyes. He raised an expectant brow as he looked up at her, but instead of replying she grabbed his thick wrist and guided his hand to her mouth to take the chicken from his fingers. She held his gaze and had the pleasure of watching his pupils blow wide, grey eyes now black as pitch as they watched her. Here sat one of the most terrifying men in the known world but before her the Hound was nothing but a pup, offering scraps at her feet. </p><p>Heat settled low in her stomach, coursing through her blood with more strength than the mead she’d been sipping all evening. Pulling the meat from his fingers, she allowed her tongue to lick the grease from a broad finger tip, feeling his answering twitch echo through him. </p><p>“Are you?” she countered releasing his hand and turning away. Knowing her cheeks were flushed, she did not retake her seat but instead quit the room entirely. Her legs carried her outside to the fresh chilled air where she took several deep breaths to calm her fluttering stomach. </p><p>Intending to walk towards the hut she was sharing with Cersei and Dany, she only travelled a short ways before a broad arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her into the darkness between buildings. Her body tensed to fight off the attack until the familiar rumbling voice sounded; she stayed her hand where it rested on the hilt of her dagger. </p><p>“I called you beautiful once and you threatened to castrate me” the Hound--Sandor growled against the flesh of her neck. “I promised you a song and you walked away from me. I wonder what you will do should I tell you I want nothing more in this world than to watch you take your pleasure upon my cock” he all but purred, nuzzling against the plaits and metal charms in her hair. </p><p>“I could cut out your heart” she said, hating how breathless her voice had gotten in his embrace. </p><p>“But you won’t” his free hand cupped her jaw, gently guiding her head to the side. She felt the warmth of his lips against her skin and she barely managed to swallow back the whimper as it escaped her throat. </p><p>“Feed it to your brother” she whispered. </p><p>“But you won’t…” he pulled her good earlobe between his teeth, gently biting the sensitive flesh and turning her spine into jelly. </p><p>“What makes you so sure?” she managed to push out the words.</p><p>“I’m not. I listened tonight,” he whispered. “They talk of you as if you were a legend. Of the ‘Red Wolf’ who cuts men down like they were straw. Of the woman who hung the flesh of Roose Bolton on the walls of her ancestral home when he wronged her.” </p><p>“I did worse,” she hissed. “I flayed him as he did my family, I made him wear his cock like a torq as I cut him to the bone; I made certain that he died slowly for what he did to my mother. He will never hurt anyone again.” </p><p>“Like he hurt you” Sandor’s thumb brushed the scar on her throat. </p><p>“Like he tried.” </p><p>“By the Gods” he growled, pulling her flush against his body. “Still” he nipped the skin of her neck. “I listened and they never talk of the men you take to your bed.” She could feel every hard muscle of his chest against her, feel the length of his cock against her lower back. She fought against every instinct to rub herself against him like a cat but her control was rapidly fraying.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what you want, Clegane? To fuck me?” she rocked back against him, her hands rising to hold to his forearm where it banded around her waist. Back at the feast he had hesitated only a moment before pursuing her in her retreat. He had laid a challenge at her feet and she rose to meet it, leaving him with a more than ready cock and a healthy serving of shock. Surely she knew what a temptation she was, the way her tongue had swiped across his finger telling him that the desire he felt for her was mutual. </p><p>So, he had ignored Gregor’s glare of fury and followed her outside. Catching her had been easy enough, but in pulling her closer he realized that she fit into the curve of his body perfectly, his overly large frame wrapping around her. She’d tensed to fight but the fight had fallen away as he spoke, her recognition of his voice spurring him on.</p><p>“I already told you what I wanted and it is nothing so simple as a mere <i>fuck</i>” he spoke against the soft curve of her neck, just beside the scar that Roose Bolton had left there. It was good she had killed the cunt, otherwise Sandor would have to hunt him down and tear him to pieces. </p><p>“Isn’t it always?” she challenged and he chuckled, pulling her tighter still. He knew there would be no mistaking the state that his body was in, his cock all but begging to be set free from the confines of its leather prison. </p><p>“I don’t want to fuck you, Sansa” he cupped her hip with one hand, the other smoothing from her throat to the leather direwolf that rested between her breasts and over her heart. “Any man can seek his own pleasure by rutting between a woman’s thighs. But me...I want to possess you. I want to watch you lose yourself to the pleasure that only I can give you, watch my thick cock slip into your soaked cunt while you ride me, over and over--tits bouncing and hair free” a soft whimper escaped her, one that he knew she desperately tried to hide. </p><p>Moving his hand to her chin, he turned her to look at him over her shoulder. Though it was nearly full-dark, the moon was high enough in the sky that he could see her clearly. Her eyes--a vibrant blue that had captured his attention from the first were nearly black, wide and pleading as she looked at him. He watched her for some sort of confirmation, some sign of consent and when her tongue darted out to wet her lips he growled in triumph. Leaning closer he---</p><p>“Brother” the angry voice of his brother broke the spell, Sansa’s body going stone rigid in his arms. Sandor snapped his head to the side to find Gregor standing in the street watching them. <i>Buggering Cunt!</i> Without a word Sansa pushed from his embrace and rushed away, vanishing into the darkness beyond. Sandor ran a hand over his face, doing all that he could to quell the swollen length of his cock that would now not receive the paradise it sought so desperately. </p><p>“You’re a fucking cunt” Sandor sighed, shaking his head. </p><p>“I see now why you discouraged me in my pursuit” Gregor glared back at him for several tense moments. “And why I would likely be refused.”  </p><p>“Could be because you were a cunt to her” Sandor offered flippantly but Gregor only shook his head and turned away. Sandor sagged against the building behind him, feeling the rift between himself and his brother open wide enough to swallow them both. </p><p>A few deep breaths later his body was somewhat under control and he stepped back into the street in time to see a frantic rider gallop into the center square. Robert emerged from the feast a second later and the young man fell from his horse, delivering the news of the approaching Others. </p><p>“Tomorrow then” Robert said sadly, looking around. “Tomorrow we fight! Spread the word!” he declared and the entire village burst into life, everyone spilling from the feast to either take up the watch or get all the sleep that they could.</p><p>From the corner of his eye he spotted the Lioness cornering Gregor, the anger melting from his brother’s face at whatever bawdy words she was offering. Turning away, Sandor made his way to his own tent, unable to push the feeling of Sansa’s body from his mind. </p><p> </p><p>Sansa’s footsteps were silent as she crept her way to the outskirts of the village. On her back was her shield and sword, keeping her weapons close by should the Others arrive sooner than expected. Cersei had slipped off to seduce Gregor, Dany was Gods know where, and Sansa...well…</p><p>Reaching her destination without being seen--fortunately, she pulled the flap aside and slipped in. </p><p>“The fuck” Sandor growled, rolling to his back to confront her, sword in hand and his face illuminated by the single candle burning in the corner. He had shed his leather and maille, a thick fur covering his lower body but leaving his chest bare. Never had she seen a man built as the Hound was, broad and roped with thick muscle, covered in a thick layer of dark hair and plethora of dark sigils and runes painted across his flesh. She imagined the Gods themselves were not built as beautifully as the man before her. </p><p>She had underestimated the Clegane Hound, assuming he was nothing more than a vessel of violence, but instead she had found him to be every dark desire she’d ever had. She was almost ashamed to admit that she would have allowed him to take her earlier, right there in the open had Gregor not interrupted. When she’d returned to her own hut the look Dany gave her was more than knowing, a silent encouragement to grab this moment. If tonight could be their last night in this world, she was going to take the moment of pleasure and happiness offered, she would grab onto it with both hands because Dany was right, they were few and far between. </p><p>Without a word she slipped her weapons from her back and set them beside his in the corner before discarding her boots. Turning back to him she deftly worked her belts and maille loose, shedding them layer by layer.</p><p>“Come for something specific, Red” he released the hilt of his blade and rolled to his back, propped up on his elbows to watch her. </p><p>“We could die tomorrow” she removed her boots and then her leather breeches, leaving herself only in her linen undertunic. </p><p>“Aye” he agreed as she stepped closer. “We most likely will,” he added darkly. </p><p>“Aye” she echoed his accent and stepped onto his pallet on the floor. “You asked me once to sit on your thigh” she teased as he shifted the blanket aside, revealing that he wore only thin braies that did nothing to hide the bulge of his arousal. Standing over his outstretched thighs she sank to his lap, settling her core over his cock. </p><p>“Fuck” he growled, wrapping his arms around her. </p><p>“If I’m to ride to Valhalla, I will do so with the feeling of you between my legs and the taste of you upon my lips” she carefully cupped his cheeks and lowered her mouth to his, finally granting them the kiss they’d been denied earlier. His lips were warm and firm against her own, parting on a feral growl as his hands carded into her hair. Drawing her hands across his beard to his neck, she clung to his strength as the press of his body to hers reignited the desire in her veins. Surely the way she ached for him was madness, but she would not turn away from it. She could not. </p><p>The metal charms in her hair jingled in the silence of the tent as he released her hair, his hands instead bunching in her tunic to pull it over her head..  </p><p>“By the Gods” he tossed the fabric aside and groaned, realizing that she was bare to him now. His large warriors hands smoothed over her back to her ribs, cupping her breasts and trailing his thumbs over their hardened peaks. </p><p>“Hound” she whimpered, covering his hands with hers, holding them against her breasts. Carefully she rocked against his length, a shiver of pleasure coursing up her spine. </p><p>“That’s it” he growled. “Take what you need.” </p><p>“What I need” she laughed, her head lolling back. “...is you…” </p><p>“I know” he smirked up at her, the expression rendering his scar all but invisible. “I know exactly what you need” he bucked up against her and she whimpered. </p><p>“Yes…” </p><p>“Take my cock out, Red, and take your pleasure” he encouraged and she released his hands, quickly undoing his braies to allow the thick length of him to spill free. </p><p>“Gods” she gasped, wrapping her hand around him, admiring his very impressive cock. He swore under his breath as she stroked him, hands falling to grip her hips in a way that bordered on painful. Though her hand was unpracticed, he did not seem to mind--in fact he seemed to greatly enjoy her touch, which spurred her on.</p><p>“Is that glorious cunt of yours wet for me?” he asked, the tendons in his neck and shoulders pulled tight. </p><p>“Yes” she whimpered at the dark tone of his voice and the way his hands flexed against her bare flesh. </p><p>“Show me” he pleaded, her free hand dipping into her folds to gather the moisture there before smearing it across the swollen head of his cock. “Fuck--” his head lolled back against the makeshift pillow he’d been using in a way that made her feel like a Goddess. </p><p>“Hound” she purred, sliding his shaft against her folds. “Beg…” </p><p>“Red---” </p><p>“Beg for the cunt you ache for so badly” she felt high on her desire, empowered by the desperation in his eyes. “Give me that song you promised me not hours ago.”</p><p>“Fucking She-Wolf” he growled, chasing her hips with his but she rose to her knees over him, laughing at his frustration. Beneath her was the warrior known as the Hound, feared and respected, completely at her mercy. </p><p>“Look at you” she teased, running a hand through his beard to his shoulder, tracing the runes there. Leaning closer--over his chest, she continued, “Any woman can seek her own pleasure by riding a man’s cock. But me? Oh Clegane, I want to own you.” </p><p>“Fucking---” </p><p>“I want you to go into battle tomorrow with the smell of us in your nostrils,” she twisted her wrist as she idly stroked his cock. “I want to watch you as you lay waste to the Others, knowing that you were completely at my mercy this night” she leaned close to whisper. Before she could react, one of his hands shot from her hip to the back of her neck, locking her in place against him, her face a hair's breadth from his own. </p><p>“And I’ll have you know that tomorrow, when the frost settles and all is done, I am not done with you, Sansa of Clan Stark” he growled against her lips. “I will never be done with you” he promised. </p><p>“Show me” she whispered, her words swallowed by their renewed kiss. She felt every sensation cutely; from the scratch of his beard to the strength of his hand on the back of her neck, to the long length of him in her hand and against her folds as she rocked her hips. </p><p>“Fuck” Sandor’s lips slid to her jaw, gently biting her as she tightened her hold on him. </p><p>“Mmhmm” she rocked back, laughing softly. The hand at her neck slid to cup her cheek, stormy grey eyes locked on her as she aligned the swollen head of his cock at her entrance. </p><p>“You’re fucking soaked,” he growled as the tip slipped inside. “On fire for me…” </p><p>“Sandor” his name slipped past her lips as she canted her hips, taking him deeper in an unpracticed movement. His hand splayed wide on her lower back to hold her close as she shifted and he slid deep, tearing through her maiden’s barrier and filling her completely. </p><p>“Sansa--” </p><p>“Shh” She cut off his surprise with a kiss. She remained still for several moments as she grew used to the feeling of his cock buried within her, to the foreign sensation of being impaled upon this man. When at last it faded she rocked slowly, carefully--back and forth, small movements that stirred the flames of desire back to life in her blood. </p><p> </p><p>Sandor would have thought that nothing could prepare him for the feeling of being inside her, thoroughly surrounded in her body’s wet heat. But in reality, he was wholly unprepared to feel the barrier of her maidenhood as it parted to allow his cock inside, for the flash of vulnerability in her eyes as she whimpered through the pain of its tearing. He was her first and Gods be damned he fully intended to be her only. </p><p>She began rock slowly, her hips unsure and perhaps pain still lingered, their chests pressed together and her temple resting against his bearded jaw. </p><p>“That’s it” he encouraged softly, his voice no more than a husky whisper as he pushed her hair over her shoulders to trace a path down her shoulder. “Take what you need, whatever you need. All that I am is yours,” he promised. </p><p>She mewled softly, adjusting her knees and rising over him. A growl escaped his lips as she took as much of his cock as she could, the blunted head nudging against her womb. He took a moment to admire her in the candlelight; all porcelain skin and fiery hair, the swollen lips of her cunt stretched wide around his shaft, the few fingers length of his shaft still visible, that she couldn’t take lest she be overly full. Surely not even a Goddess herself could ever look this perfect. </p><p>Bracing her hands on his chest, she moved hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. Sandor’s hands had a mind of their own, caressing every piece of her he could reach; pausing at her breasts before gripping tightly to the globes of her ass to guide her. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she nibbled on the swollen flesh as she rode his cock, as she took her pleasure. </p><p>“Oh, fuck” she mewled, fingers flexing in the thick coating of hair on his chest. He felt her body relax as any lingering pain turned to pleasure, the rhythm finding her at last. A litany of curses escaped his own lips as she gripped and soaked his cock, tearing pleasure and emotions from his chest that he’d never experienced before. Sliding a hand away from her ass, he used the juices from her body to coat his thumb before circling the bundle of nerves just above where they were connected. He found it easily, the swollen and heated nub throbbing at his touch, sobs bursting free of her throat. </p><p>“Look at you” he swallowed back a growl. “Riding my cock like you own it…” </p><p>“It is mine” she whimpered, her movements faltering for a brief moment before she fell back into her rhythm. </p><p>“Is it?” a dark bark of laughter rumbled free. He should have known that she would own him, from that first moment he should have recognized that she would change everything in his once-simple life.</p><p>“Yes” she ground down against him, the sound positively sinful. “Mm, please--” </p><p>“Now who’s begging” he felt her nails rake across his chest, her body curl forward and he took advantage of that boneless moment to roll her beneath him on the pallet. Settling on his elbows over her he admired the way her hair spilled across the furs, the ruddy flush of her cheeks and neck, the fire in her eyes. </p><p>“Ohh” she sighed as he slid deep. On instinct, she lifted a leg high against his side, her foot brushing the back of his knee and thigh. He watched as she raised a hand to run her fingers through his hair, tucking what wasn’t held back in braids behind his ear before stroking his beard. A moment of unspoken uncertainty passed between them, their melting fading from lust to something much deeper and neither of them knew what to say. Instead, Sandor rocked his hips, savoring her sounds of bliss and pleasure. Closing the distance he captured her lips, absently noting her arms wrapping around his back and neck as she returned it with fervor. He drank deeply of her, keeping a deep and steady rhythm that had her sighs melting into pleas, whimpers, and then broken growls. </p><p>“That’s it” he cupped her jaw, balancing on one elbow. He felt a tremor rush through her, her breathing hitched as she broke their kiss to gasp for breath. “Watch me now, don’t look away” he whispered, speeding his thrusts. </p><p>“Sandor” her eyes were wide, one of her hands coming up to hold onto his wrist, anchoring herself as pleasure rose in her blood. </p><p>“Know whose cock can make you feel like this” he continued. “My cock, this is my cock giving you this pleasure--and only my cock” he held her face gently, keeping her eyes locked on his. “You’re mine now, Red, only mine.” </p><p>“Yes--” she choked on her words, her legs wrapping tightly around him. He had barely registered her fingers carding into his hair when she tightened her hold, pulling the locks just to the point of pain. “And you’re mine” she promised, pressing her forehead to hers. “Only mine.” </p><p>Her words shattered the last of his restraint, his hips breaking loose to fuck her roughly into the furs, a chorus of feral snarls and broken gasps surrounding them. He watched it take her, unable to look away as her body raced to its peak around his. The hard clamp and flutter of her muscles around his cock forced him over the edge; surging deep he barely had time to swallow her screams of pleasure before emptying himself at the barrier of her womb. </p><p>“Fuck” she gently bit his lower lip, her entire body boneless now beneath him. They both shook and trembled as the aftershocks coursed through them, leaving them equally breathless. </p><p>“Look at you” he whispered once his brain was capable of thought. He smoothed her hair away from her face, tracing the metal wolf charms in the braids near her temples. “Gods you are beautiful.” </p><p>“I’d kill any other man but you for saying that” she smiled a true and stunning smile up at him. </p><p>“Good” he returned her smile with one of his own, ignoring the way the scar on his cheek and forehead pulled tight. The irony was not lost upon him, that her father had been the one to cut his face open and now Sandor was, at last, finding peace between Sansa’s thighs. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat as she arched against him, teasing his overly sensitive cock. </p><p>“Perhaps we ignore the coming war altogether and we stay here” she mused. </p><p>“I’d prefer not to have to fight the Others with my cock out” he felt himself slip from her body, a soft whimper escaping her. It was then that his brain reminded him that she had been untouched, a maid that had offered herself to him. “Why did you not tell me?” </p><p>“Because you would have acted differently” she reasoned, not pretending that she did not know what he was asking. “I knew my own mind and what I wanted. I am no fragile maiden that is scared of a little pain, Clegane.” </p><p>“I liked it better when you called me by my given-name,” he countered, shifting to his side and pulling her close enough to wrap his arms around her. A careful adjustment later and he was pulling the thick top fur over them both, surrounding them with warmth. </p><p>“Sandor, then” she sighed, pillowing her head on his bicep, their legs tangled together. Several minutes passed, the thrum of their peaks fading into peaceful contentment as she molded her body to his. </p><p>“I meant what I said” he kissed her forehead. “I’ll never be done with you.” </p><p>“Then it is a good thing that you are a second son” she sighed on a yawn. “Because I have a duty to my people in the North.”</p><p>“Is that so?” </p><p>“Mmhmm” she burrowed herself beneath his chin, a long exhale escaping her as she relaxed. </p><p>Sandor held her as she drifted into slumber, the soft puffs of her breath dancing across his chest and reminding him that this was real. She was real. The woman he had thought to never find--a woman who did not look at him in fear or disgust, was in his arms at last. </p><p>Tomorrow they would face the hardest battle either of them had ever had to fight. Tomorrow they would face down their own mortality and he could only pray to the Gods--if they were listening, that they would both survive. </p><p>His own body grew heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion, his face turning to rest against her hair before he, too, slipped into slumber. </p><p> </p><p>The horn’s call came at dawn, pulling them both from slumber and into immediate action. Scrambling to dress and pull on their leather armor and maille, they seemed to work in tandem; handing off blades, belts, and shields as needed. Sansa ignored the ache between her legs from last night’s activities as she pulled on her boots, not a single regret registering in her mind as she prepared to face the battle ahead.</p><p>She had wanted him, so she had taken him. It was as simple as that--or at least it had seemed that way before she fell into his arms. Now she had a hard time imagining how things would be without him in her life. Without the large, teasing, deliciously wonderful man in her life. A twinge at her conscience told her that perhaps giving her maidenhead to a man not her husband would upset her ancestors, but then again...they were not here. She was alone. She had been alone these many moons. </p><p>But with Sandor, she wasn’t alone...</p><p>Pulling the flap of Sandor’s tent aside, she meant to step outside when his hand closed around her arm and pulled her back to the solid wall of his chest. His lips were on hers before she could protest, her body melting into his kiss with a sigh.</p><p>“Stay alive,” he ordered as he broke the kiss. “I mean it, you stay the fuck alive.” </p><p>“Sandor--” </p><p>“Promise me” he demanded, his eyes wild with desperation. </p><p>“I promise I will do my best,” she said, reaching up to cup his bearded cheek. “And you’d better promise the same.” </p><p>“Not a thing in this world will stop me from carrying you back to bed this night” his smile was sinful as he stole another kiss. The horns sounded again and she felt his body tense against her. Cutting their kiss short he cupped a hand against the back of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “May the Gods protect us, guide us, lead us. And if not, may the cunts guide us to the gates of Valhalla together.” </p><p>“Together” Sansa promised, both of them exiting the tent to face the oncoming storm. </p><p> </p><p>The village was in chaos, every man, woman, and child scrambling to do their duty. The North wall was manned, archers and Wildfire more than ready, and the east and west were covered by cavalry and Wildfire alike. Everyone had worked hard to ensure that they were as prepared as possible for this fight, and now that hard work was paying off. </p><p>Sansa moved quickly across the snow-covered ground, Sandor at her back as they made their way to the front lines. Once Sansa was spotted by the other Shieldmaidens, she was pulled away from his side, but remained within eyesight which soothed his hackles. He had only just found her, he was reluctant to part with her just yet. </p><p>“Brother” Gregor’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder at the same instant a Dragonglass dagger was slipped into his palm. “Here's to hoping that she’s your Guardian Valkyrie after all.” </p><p>“Gregor--” </p><p>“Don’t” Gregor brushed him aside, shaking his head. “Obviously she was meant for you, pup” he reasoned, more rationally than Sandor expected. “Me? I settled for a piece of the Lioness” he added, pulling his broadsword free of its sheath. “Fairly certain she clawed my back right open with those claws of hers.” </p><p>“Serves you right” Sandor nodded at his older brother. “Perhaps she’ll put you in your place yet.”</p><p>“What can I say” Gregor chuckled. “I will continue to enjoy the women of the West.” </p><p>“That is fortunate, as I have a duty to the North now.” </p><p>“Do you” Gregor smirked, stepping back as another wave of horns sounded in the air. “You have my condolences” he laughed and bowed his head, stepping away to take his position at the wall. </p><p>As Sandor moved beside him, he looked back to where Sansa stood with the other shieldmaidens. As if she felt his gaze, she met his eyes and gave a small smile and a nod, yet another unspoken conversation passing between them. He watched in awe and wonder as she swiped her fingers across the closest pile of ash and dragged them across her face and nose from ear to ear. </p><p>The calls came out as their enemy broke the horizon, an army of the undead spilling from the tree line and coming towards them without hesitation. The snow picked up around them, flurries making it hard to see as a bone-deep chill swept over them. </p><p>“Shieldmaidens!” Dany’s voice screamed through the camp, slamming the holt of her blade against the wood of her shield. “We ride...” </p><p>“To Valhalla!!” the women echoed in the same instant he Wildfire ignited, surrounding their enemy and sending them headlong into battle. Sandor saw only a flash of fiery hair before his attention was pulled to those undead climbing the wall. With a silent prayer to the Gods, he trusted Sansa to keep herself safe, and flung himself into the fray. </p><p> </p><p>Everything burned. Her lungs, her eyes, her nostrils, her body...everything burned with an exhaustion that she had never felt before. The violent screams and echoes of war had suddenly fallen silent around her, only the sound of the wind reached her ears now. The wind and the cries of the wounded. </p><p>Pushing to her feet from the knee she had fallen to, she took several deep breaths that burned her chest. The warmth of fresh blood spilled from her shoulder and coated her sword arm, though she did not quite feel the pain of her injury. Stretching her neck, she felt the stickiness of blood on her neck and cheeks, her hair having stuck to the fluid before it dried, surely giving her a frightful appearance. She looked to her father’s sword, one now covered in blood and ice, the disgusting combination a result of fighting the undead. Wiping the blade on her leather trousers, she tucked it back into its sheath before hooking her battered shield on her back. </p><p>A look across the field of battle was a gruesome display of burned bodies, limbs, and blood. The Wildfire had worked as intended, spreading through the undead army like a plague as they cut them down by hand. The Frost Giants had been harder than the undead army, taking down dozens of archers and swordsmen before they fell themselves, their large bodies consumed by fire. </p><p>For as long as she lived, she would never forget the nightmare that they had all faced today. The sights, smells, the terror that had raced through her blood as she fought for the very life of every man, woman, and child in this world. In the end the dead had fallen to a permanent resting place and the living had come out victorious, may the Gods have mercy on the immortal souls of all those lost today. </p><p>Looking around the snow-covered field, she could just make out the village beyond the smoke and mist, grateful that it had survived the maelstrom. While the trees still burned, sending smoke billowing into the air, the village had been spared just as Dany had planned. Her knowledge of fire and its behavior was truly unnerving. </p><p>“Red” a deep voice sounded behind her and she whirled to face it, looking across the distance into the deep grey eyes of the man she’d given herself to not a day ago. He looked as exhausted as she felt, his leather armor cut open across the chest and a deep wound in his right thigh that was bleeding freely down his leg. </p><p>Still, he was alive…</p><p>“Hound” she muttered, her legs spurring forward before she even registered that she was moving, carrying her closer to him. </p><p>“I thought we talked about that, Red” he grimaced, halting to a stop a ways away. </p><p>“Sandor,” she did not falter or pause her steps, but instead wrapped her arms around his shoulders as soon as he was close enough and pulled his lips to hers. Sandor banded his arms around her in return, neither of them caring that they were covered in the blood of their enemies or the ash of Wildfire--nor did they care that anyone could see them, they were lost in the simple fact that they had survived and they had won. </p><p>One of his large hands slid to her ass, grabbing it firmly and holding her close against him as he parted her lips with a skilled tongue. Suddenly the exhausted that had weighed her down a moment ago, drifted away, leaving her energized with need. Between them she could feel the growing length of his cock, ready to take her despite his injuries--oh, his injuries! She broke their kiss but held him tight, her breath dancing on the cold air between them. </p><p>“You’re hurt” she whispered. </p><p>“It’s not so bad,” he countered, glancing to her shoulder. “So are you.”</p><p>“It’s not so bad” she echoed his words with a crooked smile. “Come, we should go to the healer.” </p><p>“In a minute” he held her fast, burrowing a hand into her hair. “We’ll go in a minute.” </p><p>“Sandor…” </p><p>“We’re alive, my Little SongBird” he whispered. </p><p>“We are.” </p><p>“You’re alive” he repeated, covering the line of her jaw in soft kisses. “You’re safe.” </p><p>“I am” she laughed softly, the knife-like pain distracting her as she leaned back. Sandor must have noticed because he halted his progress, pulling back to examine her shoulder. </p><p>“You need the healer” he nodded. “Come,” his arm wrapped around her shoulders, the two of them making their way across the scorched field towards the village. She could feel Sandor tense with each footstep, knowing that the cut in his thigh was worse than he was letting on and it worried her deeply. </p><p>The moment they reached the village, Gregor was at Sandor’s side, slipping an arm around his brother’s waist to all but carry him to the overburdened healers. Sansa followed, weaving her way through the dead and injured to keep up. When Sandor was laid across a cot, she moved to kneel beside him, staying close. </p><p>“She’s hurt too” Sandor protested as the healers began to cut at the leather of his breeches. </p><p>“I’m fine” Sansa shook her head, seeing now how much blood coated his leg. “Help him.” </p><p>“No--” Sandor’s argument was cut off when Gregor placed a massive hand at the center of his chest, forcing him to recline. At that, Sansa looked up into the eyes of the man known as the Mountain, seeing the brotherly concern etched there. They shared a moment of silence as they measured each other up, the moment ending as the healer poured hot water over Sandor’s wound and he growled in agony. </p><p>“Hold him” the healer instructed Gregor who held Sandor down as his leg was cleaned. Seeing the pain on his features, Sansa moved close to cup his cheeks. </p><p>“Look at me” she pleaded, his grey eyes coming to focus on her. “Look only at me” she smiled as best she could. “It’s us now, we’re alive. You’re alive.” </p><p>“Aye” he growled, holding her eyes, both of them pointedly ignoring Gregor’s stare. “We’re alive.” </p><p>“We’re alive” she pressed her forehead to his, her eyes drifting closed as she listened to his breathing--no matter how ragged. “We’re alive” she repeated, pushing aside the burn in her shoulder and the hot trails of blood down her arm. Her arm could wait, Sandor was more important. She needed him to be safe, more than anything she needed him healthy.   </p><p>“Aye” Sandor rasped, nodding weakly. “Aye.” </p><p> </p><p>Sandor woke with the sun, the pain in his leg having receded to a dull ache that was easily pushed aside. Adjusting his shoulders, he felt an unfamiliar weight on his stomach and turned to see a head of fiery hair stretched across his abdomen, a slender body seated to his left. </p><p><i>Sansa</i>. </p><p>“She refuses to leave” his brother's voice said quietly, barely above a whisper. Sandor turned to the right to find Gregor’s massive frame perched on a very tiny wooden stool. “Been here two days while you got your beauty sleep.” </p><p>“Two days,” Sandor ran a hand over his face, careful not to wake her. </p><p>“Aye” Gregor nodded, hands working on the small wooden carving in his grasp. “Wench even challenged me to single combat should I force her away” he added, making Sandor chuckle. </p><p>“She’s like to have beaten you,” Sandor whispered, relaxing against the pillow. </p><p>“Likely so,” Gregor conceded. “I started this war wanting to fuck her, it seems I’ll end it with her as my sister” he mused. </p><p>“Gregor…” </p><p>“I am almost proud,” he smirked, returning to his carving. “To have won the heart and the sword arm of a Shieldmaiden so easily; you’re more Clegane than I gave you credit for.” </p><p>“When I am well enough, I am going North with her” Sandor told him, carefully smoothing a hand over her hair. “If she’ll have me.” </p><p>“I guessed as much,” Gregor replied. “You’ll have your work cut out for you, rebuilding the North.” </p><p>“I know,” Sandor agreed. “It will be worth it, so long as she is there” he explained as Sansa stirred against his stomach, sleepily raising her head to look at him. </p><p>“Oh” her eyes were wide upon seeing he was awake. “How do you feel?” she asked quickly, hands fussing over him. </p><p>“I’m fine” he quickly caught her wrists. “Did they see to your shoulder?” </p><p>“Yes--” </p><p>“Eventually” Gregor scoffed, earning him a stone-cold glare from Sansa. </p><p>“Silence!” she hissed. </p><p>“She worried over you so long, there’s a chance that infection has set in,” Gregor continued. </p><p>“Stop!” Sansa cut in but Gregor shook his head. </p><p>“Better he knows now” Gregor reasoned. “If you’re going to be a dull ache in his balls for the rest of your lives, it's better he knows now.” </p><p>“Gregor” Sandor cut in, nodding to the door of the tent. “Give us a moment?” he asked and Gregor rose with a grumble, making his way out into the village and leaving them alone.</p><p>“I am fine” Sansa quickly assured him, sitting on the edge of the cot. It was then that he noticed that she wore only a loose tunic over her leather breeches and boots, her weapons and armor long discarded. </p><p>“How bad?” he raised a hand to brush over her cheek, brushing away the last remnants of her war paint. </p><p>“It’s not--” </p><p>“How bad?” he pulled the collar of her tunic aside, looking over the fresh bandage.</p><p>“It will heal” she said softly, placing a hand over his heart. “It will scar, but what is another scar amongst so many others?” she laughed, the sound fading away when she realized that he was not as amused as she was. “I am fine, I promise.” </p><p>“Stubborn Little SongBird” he relaxed, shifting on the cot in an attempt to get more comfortable. </p><p>“How is your leg?” </p><p>“Attached, unfortunately” he chuckled, setting his hand over hers on his chest. “It is healing, there is no need to worry.” </p><p>“Did you mean it?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“That you would go North with me?” she whispered, eyes searching his. </p><p>“Awake, were you?” he squeezed her hand as she nodded. “Aye, I meant it. We’ve survived this far, made it through the icy shit-storm that was the undead; I think we both deserve a little peace--or at the very least to have a trusted ally at our backs for the rest of our days.”</p><p>“I thought Cleganes didn’t let their women fight” she teased, shifting closer. “We’re too emotional.” </p><p>“Nothing short of a Valkyrie could have survived the front lines” he countered. “Even Dany and the Lioness had fallen back to the wall once the Wildfire ran out. But you,” he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles of her sword hand. “You were right there at my side.” </p><p>“I couldn’t let you get into too much trouble” she frowned, briefly glancing at his leg. “Apparently the Clegane males are reckless when it comes to preserving their own lives.” </p><p>“Suppose I’ll have you to protect me in the North.” </p><p>“Suppose so” she leaned closer and he turned to meet her kiss. Their lips lingered for a moment, the kiss soft and reverent before she sat back on the edge of the cot. “Are you hungry?”</p><p>“Starved,” he smirked. </p><p>“I meant for food, Hound.” </p><p>“I could eat,” he conceded. </p><p>“I will bring you something then” she replied. </p><p>“In a minute” he held fast to her hand, unwilling to let her go just yet. She smiled indulgently down at their hands, twining her fingers with his. “You can go in a minute.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Epilogue: Some Years Later</b>
</p><p>“Buggering cold” Sandor grumbled, pulling the fur cloak tighter around his shoulders. Making his way through the familiar stone halls of Winterfell, his long legs easily carried him to his destination; the Great Hall. </p><p>When he had first laid eyes on Winterfell many years ago, he had been momentarily stunned by the massive structure that the Stark ancestors had built amidst the dense forests of the North. Stone and wood had been expertly crafted into a fortress and solid outer wall that could protect its occupants from any threat. </p><p>Riding through the gate at Sansa’s side for the first time had sent a shockwave through her people. They had all watched her in awe before breaking out in a chorus of war cries. Their Chieftain had returned once again victorious and with her she brought not just any ‘spoil of war’ but a Clegane husband. </p><p>Before they had parted ways with the others ridden North to Sansa’s home, he had promised that he would take her to wife upon their arrival at Winterfell. This earned him an odd look from the man--Jory, who had arrived with Sansa only a few days past. The sworn man didn’t need to know that Sandor had already thoroughly deflowered the Shieldmaiden. </p><p>Understandably her people had been wary of him at first, but as time moved on they came to accept him as one of their own, the men soon looking to him for training advice and bits of wisdom. By the time the large event that was their wedding took place, he was an honorary Northman and one of ‘the pack’ as he was so often called. </p><p>Starks and their buggering wolves…</p><p>Still, he’d endure it all time and again so long as at the end of every day he could lay his head beside Sansa’s. That was all he would ever ask for, to spend his days at her side and walk with her through the gates of Valhalla when it was over. What more could a man want?</p><p>Descending the final stairs, he stepped into the Great Hall to find his wife exactly where he expected her to be--beside the grand fireplace watching the flames. Likely hearing his entrance, her gaze swung to him, a soft smile at her lips. </p><p>“It’s late” he moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her back and placing a kiss on her temple. Her fiery hair that had once been adorned with wolves and runes, now also bore small charms engraved with the names of her family--their family. She had honored them in the best way possible, both with her charms and in the addition of the second stripe of ash on her war paint. </p><p>“I know” she smiled. “But not all Cleganes are as easy to find slumber as you are, my darling Hound” she replied. Once a name of mocking or irreverence, ‘Hound’ had become an affectionate title within the bounds of his marriage. A title that never ceased to make him smile.</p><p>“Forgive me but it looks to the contrary” his eyes moved then to the small sleeping bundle on the cushion of the great wooden chair beside the fire. Weaker men would call it a ‘throne’, but to them it was currently where the youngest Clegane slept peacefully in a blanket of black and yellow. </p><p>Dark of hair, light of eye, and already the gem of the North, she was destined to be a fierce Shieldmaiden someday--even if she was only a few moons old just now. Elinor was her father’s daughter--well, her mother’s daughter too; all fire and fury up to the moment she was cocooned in Sandor’s embrace and then she was as meek as a lamb. Born less than a year after the long night, Sandor firmly believed that Sansa had already carried their daughter within her womb during the battle with the Others. Rumors to that point had already swirled through the realm, the mighty 'Red Wolf' fighting back the undead while carrying a child; she had become a thing of legend. </p><p>“She prefers you above all” Sansa reasoned, giving a small shrug. </p><p>“She prefers the over-warmth of the fire, a testament to my Western blood” Sandor chuckled, shaking his head. “I will carry her to bed in a moment,” he added, guiding Sansa into his embrace. </p><p>“In a moment” Sansa agreed, wrapping her arms around him. “You are well?” Sansa asked, pulling back from their embrace to look up at him. </p><p>“Aye, I’m well” he assured her, knowing that she worried after him more than she should. His leg had healed quickly, though with ample scarring, and it had served him well in the next fight--the one against a man claiming to be the bastard son of Roose Bolton. Seeking vengeance for his father, he sought to hunt down Sansa and kill her for her ‘crimes’ against his family. Sandor was never going to allow that to happen. No one would ever harm his family, not while he still walked this earth. No self-proclaimed bastard would lay a hand on the woman that carried his child. </p><p>A quick message to his brother in the West and Ramsay found himself looking across the battlefield into the faces of two Cleganes backed by hundreds of angry Northmen. There was no chance in winning after that. Not that he ever had one. The fight had been quick and bloody, the Stark army leaving behind a wasteland of would-be challengers for the crows to feast upon.</p><p>The following celebration had been a raucous affair, the Starks celebrating with the Cleganes, what a feat. In truth, Gregor had never surrendered his soft spot for Sansa, though it was never spoken aloud. Sandor could see it in the way Gregor looked at her--or pointedly didn’t look at her. He saw no need to address it or fight over it, Gregor understood that Sansa belonged to another Clegane, that she was happy and loved. </p><p><i> “It will be easier when I’m back in the West”</i> Gregor whispered the night before his departure. The brothers had shared a private drink beside the fire, Sansa’s overly tired body seeking their bed earlier than usual. Sandor hadn’t known how to reply, so he merely refilled their glasses with a small nod and a sad smile. That was the end of their discussion about it.</p><p>Several minutes passed, both Sansa and Sandor standing silent yet vigilant beside the fire as their daughter slept. While the realm had been at peace for sometime, he would never let his guard down and risk his family’s safety. </p><p>Bit by bit he felt Sansa’s weight sagging against him, reminding him that his wife needed sleep just as much as their daughter did. </p><p>“Come, it’s late” Sandor smoothed hand over her back as he nodded to Elinor. </p><p>“Aye” Sansa sighed, stepping away from his side to gather their tiny beauty into her arms along with her blankets. Once confident that Sansa had Elinor settled in her embrace, he stepped up and lifted both wife and daughter into his arms. Sansa snuggled against him as he carried them to their bedroom and the warmth it offered. Tomorrow would be another day filled with tasks for both leaders of the Stark people, but for tonight they would seek their sanctuary together. </p><p>As they were always destined to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!<br/>@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/</p><p>Or you can join the Pack <a href="https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/">HERE</a> on discord!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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